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This should be the last time I write about snow for a while. I must admit I’ll miss it. There’s a sense of adventure and survival about snow that isn’t present the rest of the year. It can shut things down completely and yet seem so harmless as it gently falls. I suppose I’d also get excited by hurricanes if they came this far north. And then there’s the recurrent threat of a tornado, or the vanishingly small chance of getting hit my lightning. Otherwise, weather doesn’t interest me that much. At least not until I get a crop in the garden.

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I decided to do a short photo essay tonight. These were taken on my way to Catholic class (only two and half weeks left until I’m in full communion!). I was at stoplights for the exterior shots, not driving.

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I’m kind of feeling the fog tonight. It’s my God night, the Tuesday Catholic classes I’ve been in since September. Fog can be comforting, limiting the view so you can concentrate on what’s in front of you. Fog can slow you down so you stop to appreciate what you have.

My mind isn’t foggy, but my focus is more inward lately. In fact, there’s a clarity of thought and purpose, and I trust my recent choices implicitly. But the fog is making me hold back on being too triumphant. Wait until you can see better, the fog warns. Just because you’re receiving grace doesn’t mean life becomes a fairy tale. Things might even get harder, or you’ll be inspired to take on the less fortunate.

Our leaders operate in a fog, you know. Some days, they probably feel they know less than nothing about what to do next. And no matter what your battle plan, as soon as you engage the enemy, you are in the Fog of War. No plan survives the first contact with reality, they say.

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I took two pictures today, but I don’t have the urge to write a lot tonight.

The snow thing I covered earlier, when the drift was high and frozen solid, with footprints. Now it’s down to almost nothing. C’mon spring.

I learned a lot about forgiveness, how it is present in every culture, from a professor here at the university who is apparently the world’s expert. He’ll be talking to my Catholic class (joined by about 100 interested others) for the next four week, so I’ll fill you in.

I’m searching for a current address and phone for Mequon (see earlier post) and coming up with too many choices. Frustrating. But I did find a Jamaican photgrapher friend in Chicago, and got an address on Madison, so the six bucks I spent on accessing the database wasn’t totally wasted.

St. Patrick's Catholic Church in Madison is a welcoming place in the oldest part of town. (The shot didn't look blurry until I posted it here; still, I like it.)